


The World's Worst Vampire

by srsly_yes



Series: Blood Brothers 'Verse [3]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Humor, M/M, Slash, Vampire!Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-15
Updated: 2008-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srsly_yes/pseuds/srsly_yes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson’s a vampire, but he’s not very good at it, however teh smex is another matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World's Worst Vampire

**Disclaimer:** Not mine or ever will be. Just playing with my anatomically correct House and Wilson dolls.  
**A/N:** Light-hearted. Not a dark vampire story. Just so happens that Wilson’s a vampire since medical school. This is part of the Blood Brothers verse, but this story is stand-alone. All you need to know is that vampire sex is real, but does not exist on a real time continuum or necessarily follows human standards, and House and Wilson talk about their sexcapades in terms of travel.  
Thanks to my beta, [](http://bookfan85.livejournal.com/profile)[**bookfan85**](http://bookfan85.livejournal.com/)  for her keen eyes and encouragement.  
This is for [](http://community.livejournal.com/get_house_laid/profile)[**get_house_laid**](http://community.livejournal.com/get_house_laid/)  prompt 075: House/Wilson -- AU vampire!sex.  
 

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_THWACK THUD POP…THWACK THUD POP…THWACK THUD POP…_

The oversized tennis ball beat a lazy tattoo from wall to carpet to hand.

_THWACK THUD POP…THWACK THUD POP…THWACK THUD POP…_

The minions’ minion was left with time on his hands.

“Go people, and introduce our patient’s tuchus to our space age alien technology.” He’d sent the kiddies off to do a colonoscopy as well as a battery of tests that utilized large and giant-sized probes and needles.

House was left with nothing to do. He’d even dispensed with all his email. If it was important, he deleted it unanswered. If it was boring, he forwarded it to the latest “enlarge*penile*dys**function?!!**” spam link he received.

Too early for lunch in the cafeteria, he wondered if Wilson was ready for a bite. He opened the oncologist’s calendar in Outlook. It confirmed a top-heavy schedule of patient appointments until noon. No wonder there was little communication leaking through the walls or through more traditional electronic means.

Scanning the schedule, his eyes brightened when he saw that Mrs. Shelley was Wilson's 10:00 o’clock. Every six months she walked Zen-like to Wilson’s office with her whirlwind twins in tow, disrupting patients and staff every time they arrived. She always brought her ADD 10 year olds. A boy and a girl who never stopped talking and moving.

The girl wandered into his conference room once, calling out if anybody was there. Before he could reach her, she was pulling books off the shelves and building a fortress. He gave her a tour of the balcony, immediately locking her out. Unperturbed by the blatant message, the youngster burrowed her way back to Wilson’s office. Wilson, who did get House’s meaning, managed to keep subsequent meetings brief, and kept all three corralled in his office.

House enjoyed checking on Wilson after the Shelley confabs. He looked like he’d taken a beating. He was pale, and his lazy eye behaved as poorly as the children. Good news for House, because Wilson was more willing to consider a “quickie” pick-me-up that he normally ruled out as inappropriate during business hours. So far, Wilson hadn’t cracked, and any physical contact never went past the considering stage, but House held high hopes for today.

Just as he predicted, the tranquil hospital halls became entrenched in guerrilla warfare as Mrs. S. sailed out of Wilson’s office with screams and squeals echoing off the walls. Peace drenched the hallway as the elevator doors closed. Her remission must be holding because she was leaving early. House shook his head. Just his luck, the woman would probably live to be a hundred, and her kids would befriend Peter Pan and never grow up.  House checked his watch_…_10:20.

He expected to hear French shoes shuffle down the hallway, a call on his cell, or the hair to rise on the back of his neck as he heard Wilson’s voice whisper in his head.

He didn’t reckon on a tractor beam controlling his legs and directing his feet into the department head’s office. He barely found time to snatch his cane as he was lifted out of his chair. No one was around to watch, so he fought against the force, but it only made him stagger and do a Charlie Chaplin impersonation as he neared Wilson’s office. He stubbornly refused to give in.  
   
Not of his choosing, his hand knocked on the oncologist’s door before opening, and there was Wilson in his wrinkle-free lab coat. He was leaning against the front of his desk with his face scrunched into a thundercloud, his eyes shut tight concentrating, and the fingertips of his right hand pressed into his temple. He didn’t open his eyes until House was two feet in front of him.

House was greeted with familiar exasperation, but there was a twist of anger splashed on top.

“What did you think you were doing!?”

“You mean the jig I did dancing over to your office? Since when do you live on the edge and use your powers in public?”

“Unlike you, I plan before I act. No one was going to see you. Not with the whole floor entertained by a visit from Nurse Brenda doing the chicken dance.” Wilson allowed a smug smile before hiding it away in his bat cave. He cleared his throat and allowed his brown eyes to smolder while he waited for House’s confession.

Not copping to any plea until he understood the depth of Wilson’s fury, House returned the ball to Wilson’s court, “You wanted to see me, Oh Great Master Jimmy?”

The brown eyes flashed silver as if discharging pent-up tension, but in reality, it was a physical manifestation of Wilson's vampire ignition switch turning on. His hand whipped behind him in a blur of motion and shoved a shiny gold object in front of House’s face.

Wilson hissed as best he could as his fangs sprung to life and his temper flared, “Houshe, how could you!?”

House was having control issues with his face. He fought to keep from laughing and the corners of his mouth turning into a smile. To gain some time, his hand straightened the knot on Wilson’s tie, and brushed invisible dust from the lab coat’s lapel.

It was difficult to take a lishping vampire seriously. Actually, it made him hot, and the fuckilicious befanged lips were so very inviting, but he learned from painful experience that he’d get a bloody lip if he zeroed in on a kiss. A few months ago, he found himself in the uncomfortable position of explaining to Cuddy and his team that his healing punctured lower lip was caused by getting drunk one evening and hastily deciding to pierce it.

The gold loving cup was still wagging in front of his face. He didn’t have to inspect the offending item to know what it said, and whom it came from. He accepted full responsibility and hoped it came with an exacting penance, “I thought I’d surprise you.”

The cold heat radiating off Wilson’s frame was tamped to a flickering match. The anger cooled to a simmer, and the fangs retracted, “Yes, you surprised me alright, and Mrs. Shelley’s curious daughter too. The one who obsessively checks everything on my book shelves when she comes in.”

The brass trophy was beginning to rattle apart in Wilson’s shaking hand, “She wanted to know why someone would give me an award for ‘The World’s Worst Vampire.’ Would you happen to know?”

“The trophy shop was out of Miss Congeniality trophies. Just as well, because you forfeited it today with your piss-itude, so I settled for this. Don’t get too excited, the world is too narrow a range for your limited abilities. The universe comes much closer to the scope of your talen--”

“Thanks a lot, and I wasn't the customer who bought the last congeniality cup for you.” Wilson rubbed the back of his neck, “You know I can’t afford anyone to suspect.”

“No, not when the survival rate of your department is at benchmark highs. How do you do it, Dracula? Bestow immortality onto all the little bald kiddies?”

Wilson’s voice cracked, “If only I could.”

Okay, the vampire was sinking into a depression now. That was never good for House’s libido. He needed to rouse Wilson so he could arouse him, “What did you tell her?”

“Tell who?”

“The wannabe junior reporter for ‘The Inquirer’? Why you’re the world’s worst vampire?”

Wilson shrugged, “Explained my department volunteered the most pints of blood to the blood drive…which, by the way, we did.”

“Good. Now you have the award that proves it.”  Wilson looked calmer after House’s remark. Grasping onto the thin opportunity, he raised his hand to stretch the neck of his t-shirt to give Wilson a hint, but Wilson went off on another riff…

The gold cup was catching and bouncing sunlight off its smooth surface as Wilson flourished it in his hand, "Wh-wh-what do you mean, I’m the world’s worst vampire? Who do you even know you can compare me to?”

House raised a hand and began ticking off traits, “Not as determined as Tom Cruise, scary as Gary Oldman, or tanned as George Hamilton. Must I go on?”

“B-But they’re actors!”

House wasn’t finished, “You can’t make your yourself invisible, or turn into a bat. And, don’t fool yourself, your recent magic shop raids do nothing for your image. You can’t supplement vampire aura with card and rope tricks from Irving’s House of Magic. You really need to stay out of there unless they carry sex paraphernalia too.” The hand was back stretching at the “T,” as House leered, “You could ratchet up the scale a notch if you performed vamp sex on me.”

Wilson folded his arms defensively, but looked guilty, "The m-magic tricks are for the upcoming department talent show." He continued to strike the pose, and glared, “Oh, oh, oh! I get it. This is all about sex. You want me to caress you here at the hospital.” Wilson looked around as if the books and toys on the shelves turned into spectators and lowered his voice, “You know how I feel about the possibility of getting caught.”

“That’s why you’re the world’s worst vampire, Wilson.” At last House had him where he wanted, “Aren’t you the Master of your fate?”

“Apparently not, with you as my minion.”

“Can’t you control people from barging into your office without knocking?” House pressed his point home as he watched his not-so-dark prince bite his lower lip.

“Like you, for example?” Wilson glanced nervously at his watch, "There’s no time. I’m expecting a patient in five minutes.”

“Four. You can do a two continent tour in four.”

Silence from Wilson as his mouth formed a tight thin line.

“Three minutes. We stay within the United States and take in Mount Rushmore and the Rockies.”

Chocolate brown eyes studied the ceiling.

“Work with me here…two. We travel up the New Jersey Turnpike.” House was fairly disgusted with his negotiation skills. _Turnpike sex, what was he thinking?_

The firm mouth softened as Wilson emitted a chuckle, his eyes began shedding silver sparks. “One minute, and forget the Turnpike. How about the lights on Broadway?”

House bristled with excitement, but pretended to consider, “Gay, but—“

Wilson blinked, and the lights went off in the office, the deadbolts on both doors snapped shut, and the blinds scissored closed. Wilson shrugged his lab coat off and flourished it in the air. The garment turned from white to black and transformed into a cloak as he tied it around his neck. He murmured, “For your information Irving didn’t teach me any of this…”

House’s eyes widened, _impressive_, by his stiffening erection he could tell his body thought so too.

Wilson leaned into the soft skin covering the throat and the throbbing pulse underneath, but hovered for a moment, as he undid the top button on House’s jeans, and slid his hand down, rubbing the hardened cock with his hand. House involuntarily swallowed cold air as fangs pricked his skin. The pain was sharp but fleeting. He closed his eyes as he heard the sound of hot sucking.

A million lights sashayed and promenaded in countless combinations of flickering lights. Not only red, yellow and blue and the colors in-between, but infrared and ultraviolet. The air teamed with greasepaint, perfume and expensive cigars…

A shiver ran over the surface of his body from Wilson’s electric touch. Grabbing House’s t-shirt by the neck, Wilson tore it down the center and teased House’s nipples until they ached. Dragging his hands down House’s stomach, Wilson gripped both the jeans and brief’s waistbands and following a sharp tug, both collapsed around the diagnostician’s feet. Stepping on the heap, Wilson guided him away from the clothes with one arm around his back as he nipped an ear lobe. He then ground his own bulge into House emerging hard-on in invitation.

As Wilson’s mouth sought his, House’s hands flew over Wilson’s belt buckle, snatching it from the gutless loops. It whipped out of his hands and traveled across the room. He barely knew what he was doing with the pant’s hook and zipper as a tongue pushed and tangoed with his. He swore they were breathing the air from each other’s lungs. The pants disappeared from radar, but Wilson’s shirt buttons ground into his chest, and the trivial pain was dealt with in one quick upward movement as his hands sought the flap bottoms, and ripped the opening apart like a splintering wishbone sending the buttons scattering and clicking against the walls. His hands sought the nipples nestled among Wilson's wiry hair on his hard chest, pinching until the tightened points begged for his tongue. He methodically licked and teased the buds with his teeth as he pulled down Wilson’s boxers feeling the mat of hair and the ready erection as silk dropped away. They moved together one more step from the second mound of clothes.

House was willing to give as much pleasure as he received, and right now his eyes were half closed as his body swayed while Wilson’s hand rubbed his cock, starting light and becoming firmer, a thumb massaging the tip. The other hand gently cupped his balls and sought other amusements by squeezing a firm cheek that nearly lifted him off the floor.

He wanted to feel the same throbbing heat in his hand and as he sunk his teeth into the fleshy shoulder and sought Wilson’s straining cock, moving his hand up and down at an identical pace. Wilson gasped a shuddered breath attempting to control his own body, and slammed House against the wall, falling down on his knees, and wrapping his mouth around the erection. House felt a jolt of lightening ignite his body as the lips tightened onto his hard-on, motioning up and down its length, a tongue swiping the tip in a hypnotizing spiral, and sucking off a little pre-come. He grabbed Wilson’s hair, pushing his head closer, signaling that he wanted to be swallowed whole. Wilson obliged as he grabbed and squeezed House’s ass, and his lips crept up the cock slipping back and forth. House teetered on the brink as his balls tightened and Wilson surrounded the erection completely. The throat muscles hugged tightly. He bucked and shook and his body exploded. Hot come pulsed in explosive release.

Covered in steamy sweat, House dropped back to earth and Wilson pulled away and stood up, stroking House’s cock into an impossibly feverish erection again. Wilson whispered into his ear, “Vampire sex House, and 30 seconds to go. You don’t think we’re done so soon, do you?”

House swallowed into his dry throat, he damn well knew he wasn’t. He felt his cock swelling into rock hard proportions. He knew from experience the second time was even better. He growled, “Down on your knees now.”

Sex made him limber, and his own knees bore his weight as one hand returned to Wilson’s hardened erection as he probed a finger into Wilson’s beautiful ass. It wasn’t necessary for a vamp, but it added a homey touch. Wilson tightened in virginal surprise. Two fingers, and there was a begging squirm. Three, and Wilson moaned his need, and not until then did House plunge and thrust, scintillating Wilson’s prostate as his own senses sang and his erection pistoned into the tight-fitting opening. He rode Wilson like a jockey and Wilson’s cock the pommel on a saddle. The increasing sliding motion and pressure of his hard-on in Wilson spurred his hand to echo the same rhythm on Wilson’s cock. The pace sped up as they rocked and bucked, moving faster and faster. They both panted ragged breaths and strained taut muscles to the limit as they moved in unison. The primal tempo of their bodies drove and tumbled them to the finish line until they groaned in harmony as they convulsed and they both came.

Warmth spread through them as they slowly separated. They entwined their limbs as they gasped for air, and kissed the salty sweat from each other's necks and the rivulets running down their bare chests…

Until there was a knock on the door.  
_  
Oh, crap!...or…whatever… _

House couldn’t care less. He was floating in a land of bliss. All tension was replaced with a tingling vibration that was only bestowed with a vampire’s kiss. He ran his hand over his neck, and his fingers came away with a small smear of blood.

It was Wilson who sprang into action at the speed of light. He snapped his fingers and tissues appeared in his hand. He wiped both of them clean, as well as the innocent property in the office. When he was done, he nodded at the crumpled waste in his hand, and it conveniently combusted into flame, vanishing into the air.

The doorknob rattled as Wilson bobbed his head and waved his hand over the contents of the office. A wordless bippity boppity boo, and they were dressed -- their clothes without a rent or blemish. The lights blazed on.

Wilson handed him his cane, eyeing the leg, “How’s it feel?”

Hopping on his right foot, “Your therapy is still working.”

They both inhaled steadying breaths. One quick look crossed between them where dazzling blue met soft brown. They were ready.

Wilson limped slightly as he walked over and opened the door. It was Cuddy. A knowing smile quirked her lips, “Am I interrupting anything?”

Wilson spoke up, “Uhm, uh no Cuddy, House wanted me to check a lump on his neck, but it’s nothing.”

House supported the claim, “Wilson assured me, it’s a mosquito bite from a New Jersey native. Less dangerous than a flea.”

Wilson placed his hands on his hips as he stared at House, but swiftly turned his gaze to Cuddy and resumed a more relaxed posture, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Looking back and forth between House and Wilson, Cuddy thought she was being played, but she mentally shrugged, “I thought I’d drop off these approved trial forms before your next patient arrived.” She held out a folder which Wilson accepted. She squinted at them, trying to divine what was going on, but there faces were two blank whiteboards. She gave up, turned around and left.

House checked the clock on Wilson’s desk, wrinkling his forehead and widening his eyes in all innocence, “See, what did I tell you? That went well, and under a minute. You still have over three to prepare for your next patient.” Sensing Wilson was ready to blow about Cuddy showing up, he headed for the balcony door to beat a hasty retreat.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

House’s legs froze to the carpet. _Damn!_ Too bad Wilson’s vampire abilities didn’t extend to cooler things like flying instead of powers that only messed with him. But, from what he witnessed today with the cloak, flame, and deadbolts, he was improving. Not that he’d ever tell Wilson.

And, then there was the sex. It made it worthwhile putting up with an enchantment challenged vampire.

Rarely disputing the rules of their game, House did so now, “Let go of my legs, or I won’t top next time.”

His feet were freed from the floor. Wilson was waving the golden cup once more, “Don’t suppose you’d like to eat your words?”

“Wilson, you need to dump Irving. Let’s go to Atlantic City this weekend where you can check out Yang Ho’s Magic Bag of Tricks. Seriously, you need to put together a better act.”

The starch visibly dripped out of Wilson’s immaculate white coat, and his shoulders slumped forward as he sat on the edge of his desk. “Ho’s? You want to go to Atlantic City for magic or for tricks?”

“Always bros before ho’s, Wilson.” Rolling his eyes, House looked at the brooding vamp. He didn’t want to reveal his softer side, but this was his Master after all. As he opened the balcony door to make his escape he cast a few words out before leaving the office, “Take a closer look at the trophy before you consider going to an oral surgeon to extract your fangs.” He resigned himself to his role as minion, “You can talk your raisenette heart out all you want over lunch.”  
   
Wilson didn’t lift his head until he sensed House returned to his office. He permitted a smile to play across his face. He already discovered the double meaning of the trophy. The plate that was engraved with “The World’s Worst Vampire” on it was really a sturdy magnet that hid another rectangle of metal underneath. As soon as he discovered it, he knew it was House's screwed up way of paying a compliment and probably the closest he would ever come to showing affection.

He rubbed his thigh. House's leg pain was already receding to a memory.

Standing up, Wilson placed the trophy on the topmost shelf away from prying eyes. He shook his head, House didn’t want to know or need to know how he felt. He was pleased to be the world’s worst anything as long as he was a good doctor and lived up to the inscription on the bottom plaque of the trophy, "World's Greatest Lover."

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* * *

  
Tuchus = took-hus (breathy sound for the k-h). Yiddish for butt. 


End file.
